


it is what it is (and it keeps on running back)

by fortymaliks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortymaliks/pseuds/fortymaliks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleanor doesn’t see it as anything else but a gift when Louis leans in, nose brushing softly against the hair at the nape of her neck as he mutters, “let’s call Harry, tonight,” into her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it is what it is (and it keeps on running back)

**Author's Note:**

> This can be blamed on two things: a) I have a slight obsession with Harry Styles' mouth and thinking about how he might use it, and b) there isn't enough Harry/Louis/Eleanor in existence.
> 
> Thanks to Amy (@motb_apothecary) for reading it over and for generally being fantastic. All remaining mistakes are my own. <3
> 
> The title is from Blood Orange's [Time Will Tell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-18J8lGJeLo), which was the song I listened to on repeat while I wrote this. It's so fantastic, and [if you haven't seen the video, you absolutely have to.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-18J8lGJeLo)

She doesn’t get this often. Only when Louis is in a good mood, when he’s feeling confident, comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t need to be threatened by Harry, she’s told him this more than a handful of times. He knows it, she knows he does, but she doesn’t push it. She wants him to feel safe and loved more than anything in the world. So she doesn’t ask for this.

But sometimes, when things are going Louis’ way, and the confidence he’s exuding goes deeper than the act he puts on for the rest of the world, he gives it to her.

Eleanor doesn’t see it as anything else but a gift when Louis leans in, nose brushing softly against the hair at the nape of her neck as he mutters, “let’s call Harry, tonight,” into her skin.

Louis knows he’s won when she shivers with her entire body, breathless as she nods and presses her lips to his, frantically.

That’s how they got to tonight, Harry kissing her softly on the cheek when she opens the door to him. He offers her a bottle of wine, waves a bit awkwardly at Louis as he kicks off his boots. His smile is genuine, as ever.

“It’s been a while,” Harry notes, getting right to the point. Eleanor blushes when his eyes meet hers, averts her gaze and tries not to chew too hard on her bottom lip. Louis just nods at him, and they all make their way to the bedroom without much more idle chatter.

Eleanor loves everything about Louis, and everything about what they do together, but nobody eats her out like Harry does, and they both know it. Louis’ eyes meet hers for a long moment as they sprawl on the bed, a brow raised in what Eleanor knows to be mock annoyance, before he heaves a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Have at it, then, if you must,” Louis drops a quick kiss to Eleanor’s lips, moving to settle in beside her. She’s not sure if he’s speaking to Harry or to her, but either way it means the same thing.

Louis helps her get her blouse up over her head, helps her get the button of her jeans. He helpfully doesn’t comment when her hands are too shaky to do it herself, he just helps her kick them off, and then leans in for a soft, comforting kiss.

When Eleanor turns her attention to the foot of the bed, Harry’s just finished throwing his shirt to the floor. She watches the way he grins, like he knew he’d get this tonight. He wraps a careful hand around Eleanor’s ankle, he strokes the soft skin there.

She kicks against where his fingers are curled loosely around her, “come on, then,” she hisses, trying to let impatience outweigh her nerves. Louis huffs out a laugh against the skin of her neck.

Harry doesn’t spring into action, though. Instead he smiles warmly, fingers still tracing patterns on the skin of her calf. He leans over and sets his lips there, softly, making her squirm.

Finally, just as she opens her mouth to hurry him again, he knees his way onto the bed, parting her thighs so that he can settle between them.

“Shh,” Harry kisses the words into the skin of her upper thigh, “relax, love.”

She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Louis loves watching this, but she still can’t help but be aware of how long she stares at Harry. She’s self-conscious about the way her eyes can’t leave the curve of his ink-littered shoulders; the way she watches his muscles shift under his skin when he carefully climbs to settle between her thighs.

Harry’s cheekier than Louis is; teases her the way she loves to be teased. Louis still touches her reverently, like she’s this perfect thing, and she loves that, she really does. But Harry aims to wind her up.

He lifts his head up past where she wants it, pressing tiny kisses into the juncture where her leg meets her hip. She can’t stop the tiny noise that falls from her lips when Harry sets his teeth in, scrapes them gently over her skin, before following again with his lips.

Eleanor’s eyes flit to Louis; she knows he can get jealous, but he’s only staring, too, lips parted, panting softly. His eyes follow Harry’s mouth, even as he’s clutching Eleanor’s hand in his.

The first time Harry leans in and puts his tongue where she wants it, licking a playful, broad, wet strip up over her clit, she can’t help the way her thighs clench together. Harry smirks and presses her legs back into place.

“Careful, love,” he teases. He pushes softly, but insistently, until her legs are spread again.

Leaning in again, Harry gets to work this time. His tongue is easy and clever against her clit. He goes maddeningly slowly, softly works her until she’s close to the edge, and then backs off, panting breath across where she needs more pressure until she can catch her breath again.

It’s thrilling to her, how obvious it is that Harry loves this. He isn’t afraid to go for it, trailing downward to lick firmly at her opening. His fingers are still pressed into the skin of her thighs, holding her open for him as he licks her out. When he pulls up to grin, Eleanor can see his lips and chin, shiny and spit-slick from how wet she is.

When Louis’ grip on her wrists loosens slightly and he tells Harry to, “stop teasing, H. Come on, now,” she’s almost disappointed. She feels Louis’ familiar hands ghost down the length of her body as he shuffles down the bed so that he’s level with her waist. Maybe he does it so that he can see better, or maybe to remind Harry that he’s still there. Most likely it’s so that he can reach better, when he grasps her hips firmly and presses her into the bed.

Eleanor can’t help the small noise that spills from her lips; she’s got her boyfriend’s strong hands immobilizing her while his best friend gets her off on his tongue. She’ll never tell Louis that it’s her favorite thing, but there it is, and he probably knows it as well as she does.

It only gets better when Harry brings his fingers down to trail through her wetness, one thick finger nudging at her opening as his tongue flickers above it. He presses in, slowly, letting Eleanor feel the drag of the digit against her insides as he pushes and pulls, fucking into her again and again.

She can’t think anymore, not with the way Harry’s tongue is flicking over her clit as his long finger works inside her. She knows she’s babbling nonsense, begging maybe, she’s sure that’s slipped in there, somewhere. Her hips rock up into Louis’ hands, frantically chasing everything Harry’s giving her, as if she could get him closer, more, anything.

Louis leans down and presses kisses into the skin of her stomach as he holds her fast. Her muscles jump under his lips where she’s clenching around Harry’s finger. Eleanor knows he’s whispering against her when she feels it against her skin, but she can’t hear anything past the rushing in her ears.

Her attention is ripped from Louis when Harry closes his lips softly around her clit and sucks. She can feel the yell that tears itself from her throat better than she can hear it, and she bucks her hips up into Louis’ grip again. Harry starts alternating then, suckling and licking and flicking with his tongue, soft and hard, too much and then not enough in the same breath. It’s a technique she’s only ever gotten from him, and she knows better than to ask him where he’d learned it.

Harry shoves two fingers in deep and holds them, giving her something to clench on as he scrapes his teeth gently across where she’s most sensitive. Once, twice, and then he gives her the firm, steady flat of his tongue to rock against.

She comes like that, bright bursts of white behind her eyelids, shouting nonsense so that she doesn’t shout Harry’s name while Louis is pressed so close. Harry takes his hands off her legs and lets her thighs close around his head as she rides it out against his face, on his fingers.

Harry lets her breathing even a bit before he pulls his fingers out. It’s uncomfortable, but watching him lick unconsciously at his lips, where he’s still shiny from her, distracts her nicely.

Harry grins down at her as he does it, winking happily, before he turns his gaze to Louis.

Louis’ hands have loosened, and he’s brushing them across her skin soothingly. He stops when he catches Harry’s eye.

“Come here, Lou,” Harry says, quietly. It’s so small that Eleanor would have missed it if she hadn’t been waiting for it, hoping that it was one of those nights that Harry would push for something more.

Louis sighs, swallowing helplessly as he sits up. Eleanor reaches out and squeezes his hand once, reassuring him that this is fine. He clutches back once, before he leans into Harry’s space and kisses him softly.

Eleanor hears a moan fall from Harry’s lips, before Louis pushes in harder, licking into Harry’s mouth like he’s trying to find him underneath the taste of her.

It’s rare that she gets to see them like this. She knows what they used to have, back in the earlier days of the band, back before her. She knows Louis isn’t in a place yet where he can let himself want Harry like he does. Some days she hates that she’s the person who has come between them, as unwilling as it was.

She budges up on the bed so that she can watch the way Harry’s fingers dig into the skin of Louis’ biceps. She watches Harry hold Louis where he wants him until Louis goes soft and pliant under his weight. She watches them fall backwards together, watches Louis pull frantically at Harry’s hips until he’s over top of Louis and they’re aligned enough to get some friction.

Eleanor doesn’t want to ignore it when they’re like this, like Louis always does. She doesn’t want to pretend these moments don’t exist. She can hear Harry’s, “Lou, I still, god, Louis, please, I still need…,” hears the way he cuts off his words by sucking bruises into Louis’ skin as they grind together.

She can hear Louis’ quiet reassurances, meant only for Harry as he sobs and comes, hands clutching any part of Louis he’s allowed to have. Louis holds him as he shakes through it, stopping only for a moment before Harry grunts out a sound of frustration and scrambles lower on the bed to swallow Louis’ cock down almost before Eleanor knows what’s happening.

“Harry, fuck, missed this,” Louis pants, tangling his fingers in Harry’s curls and tugging in a way he never would with Eleanor. “Always so good for me.”

Eleanor hears Harry whimper around Louis, and it doesn’t take long before Louis’ is coming, too, and Harry’s surging up to kiss him again almost before his hips have even stopped rocking from it.

They kiss until their breathing slows, until Eleanor knows it must be getting uncomfortable with how sticky Harry must be. Their kisses slow to a leisurely pace, and she almost holds her breath, waiting for the moment when Louis remembers that he shouldn’t let himself kiss Harry like this. Eleanor dreads it almost as much as Harry must.

It’s inevitable, though, and when it happens, Louis presses at Harry’s shoulder gently. Harry whines quietly, steals one more long kiss from Louis before he lets himself be pushed off. He settles between Louis and Eleanor like he belongs there, burrowing in between them.

He’s always there, between them, Eleanor thinks, as Louis pulls the duvet up so that it covers the three of them. The funny thing is, Eleanor doesn’t mind it the way Louis thinks she does; the way the world thinks she ought to. Harry’s legs tangle with hers, and it feels like he’s supposed to be there with them. Once she finds a way to convince Louis that he is, all will be right in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> //[tumblr](http://fortymaliks.tumblr.com)//[twitter](http://twitter.com/fortymaliks)//


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